Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 57897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
“Maybe,” I said, unable to wipe the smile from my face. She’d just casually dropped the idea of a second date. I was going to remember that.
“So, can I pry a little?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said. “What do you want to know?”
“What kind of music do you like? I want to know what you were listening to when you drove in,” she said. “Do you mind?”
Her hand was hovering over the volume knob. My screen had been turned to GPS so it wasn’t showing the current song on my streaming service.
“Uhh, sure,” I said.
She turned the knob, and I laughed heartily as the dulcet tones of Weird Al Yankovic filled the cabin of the truck. If the sword and sorcery admission didn’t do it, this surely would. I couldn’t help but laugh at how cruel the universe had become.
Yet, instead of a disgusted or confused face, when I turned to look at Beth Ann, her jaw was open and her eyes wide with excitement and joy. Suddenly, she started dancing in her seat and singing along. It wasn’t even one of his parody songs, and she knew it.
“You like Weird Al?” I asked.
“Is that surprising?”
“Frankly, yes,” I said. “You are… very pretty.”
“Are pretty girls not allowed to have a sense of humor?” she laughed.
“Well, no, but I just… I’ve never met one that liked Weird Al.”
“You hadn’t met anyone like me yet,” she said, continuing to dance.
She was right about that. I had certainly never met anyone like Beth Ann.
As we pulled into Sergio’s, the music had changed a few times, bouncing genres as my tastes tended to represent. When we parked in the slightly crowded lot, Meat Loaf was opining about what he would and would not do for love.
“I love that song,” she said. “My mom was a big fan of his. She had all his CDs.”
“CDs. Old-school.”
“She said she and her friends used to listen to them all the time. Actually, now that I think about it, there is an old record box in the trailer. I wonder if my aunt kept any good vinyls.”
“I would get on looking for that,” I said. “Probably worth a good bit of money.”
Her face dropped a little at that, and I pushed through, hoping to move past it. I smiled and slid out of the car, going around to her side and opening the door. As she stepped out, her expression was back to normal, seemingly cautiously sexy with a side order of adorable.
Going inside, I felt a huge sigh of relief. The bar was very different from the restaurant on the other side, from what I could see. The restaurant looked like the classic Italian affair, but the bar was hopping and full of people roughly our age. A TV was up over the bar playing a baseball game, and two others in the corners of the rooms had other things on. One was sports, and another was some masked competition show.
We settled in at a booth, and a waiter came by. Beth Ann ordered a cosmo, and I ordered beer and got us a couple of appetizers for the table.
“So, why did you leave Maryland?” she asked as she took the straw between her exquisite-looking lips and sipped.
“I kind of did it on a whim,” I said. “I had nothing good going on up there anymore, and my cousin had this company down here. He offered me a job a while back, and I figured I would come work for him and try something new out.”
“What company?”
“Tennessee Mountain Logging Company,” I said. “Boring name, but it does the job.”
Her jaw dropped. “No way. That’s the name of the company my lawyer suggested I talk to about the land and the trees.”
“Really?” I asked, not all that shocked. I would be more shocked if a lawyer from around this area of town didn’t already know my cousin and his friends. They seemed to know everyone in and around Ashford.
“Yeah,” she said. “I just don’t know.”
“You don’t know about what?”
“Selling,” she said. “It’s a lot, the land and the debt and everything. A lot. And it just kind of got dropped in my lap. But after going through the house and seeing all my aunt’s stuff, I feel like I ought to keep the place going.”
“Well, do you have any experience with anything like that?”
“No,” she said, laughing a little. “Not even close. I’m an accountant.”
“Well, maybe I can help. I could help clear some stuff out of the way for you and help you assess the property before you make any decisions. If you don’t want me to, I won’t even tell my cousin I’m doing it, so it’ll be a fair assessment. As fair as I can offer anyway.”
“I would be very grateful for your help.”
I smiled.
“Happy to do it,” I said.